


digging up treasure don’t get easier than this

by dastardlyenables



Series: (Ab)Normal Horoscopes [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods, Alternate Universe - Indiana Jones Style, Archeological Exploration, Don't copy to another site, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:05:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dastardlyenables/pseuds/dastardlyenables
Summary: Minato does a cursory brush to dislodge dirt off the seat of his pants as he stands, before immediately turning his eyes toward the well-preserved walls of the temple’s inner sanctum.  In terms of this exploration, falling down that hole is one of the luckiest things that ever happened to him.Minato is searching for the remnants of a lost civilization. He certainly finds it.





	digging up treasure don’t get easier than this

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Normal Horoscopes
> 
> **Virgo** The underground spring. Waters filtered through miles of porous rock. The altar buried with an earthquake. The things that hang from the ceiling, feeding off the waters below.

Minato does a cursory brush to dislodge dirt off the seat of his pants as he stands, before immediately turning his eyes toward the well-preserved walls of the temple’s inner sanctum. In terms of this exploration, falling down that hole is one of the luckiest things that ever happened to him. The carvings in here seem so well-preserves as to almost seem newer, even surrounded by the twisting, bioluminescent vines that sink into the cracks of the walkway and down further into the waters below. 

“Fascinating,” Minato mutters to himself, leaning in to squint at the walls even as he moves further down the hall-tunnel, buried deep beneath the earth by the same ancient earthquake that swallowed the Konoha civilization in a night, with only the barest traces. Swallowed so suddenly, too, for such an advanced society that had methods for predicting weather patterns and seasonal storms. The fragments that could be found spoke of technological advances that seemed almost entirely impossible, and yet now that Minato is _here_ it seems less like an impossiblity and more like understatement.

The hall opens out to a wide rotunda with a high ceiling. The water below flows into deep channeled pools that ring the edges of the circular room, framed by bright, colorful mosaic tiles in complex circular patterns, each and every one unique even as they all contain a repeating motif of a three tomoe. At the center lies the famed altar, a giant slab of raw, white granite resting in the center, sparking with light. The vines are only around the walls, and even their bioluminescence is dimmed in the bright light of the rotunda, as if it still had access to the sky.

Not that Minato notices, leaning on tiptoe to read at the complex stonework and mosaics that ring the edges of the altar, telling a story entirely unknown to the recorded myth they’ve so far managed to recover. He tiptoes gently around the room, leaning over so far in places that he wobbles, balanced precariously over the clear waters that act as a barrier between floor and wall.

It starts with a depiction of two young children, one of whom is most definitely the god Tobi himself, watched over by the goddess Nohara. Following along the wall it is easy to watch them grow, Tobi into his godhood and the other child into his favored servant. The farther the wall gets along, the story becomes more clear, until he comes to two panels, greatly defaced and shattered, as through the very narrative had been gouged from the wall by in-human hands and cast down into the waters below, so far down that even with all crystal-clarity they cannot be seen. After that panel is the last of the set, winding him back, again to the entrance from which he came.

It is different in design and scale, looking more abstracted and glyph-like, but it is clearly the destruction of Konoha: the ground opening up to swallow all of the city-civilization and the temple at its heart, rage of fire and ash and crushing stone.

“This is... this is _incredible_!”

“Maa, maa. Surely my handiwork is not so impressive. I was never much of an artist.”

Minato whirls around, in his khaki romper and pith helmet and Birkenstock boots, to see a man sprawled lazily across the altar. He wears what seem to be a recreation of the ancient robes worn by the acolytes of the temple, with the addition of a mask drawn up over the bridge of his nose, and a thin strip of cloth to serve as an eye patch covering his left eye. He leaps down from the altar, and the light touch of his feet against the smooth floor is nearly soundless, as he comes to stand and lean over Minato’s shoulder.

“One does get bored, though, and Obito makes for terrible company.”

The whole temple rattles with those words, oddly as if indignant, but nothing seems to dislodge and it passes in moments. Minato reaches out to brace himself as the man seems entirely unaffected. It is only when the shaking stops that Minato realizes he braved himself against the beanpole of a man, and hastily let’s go of this death grip on the man’s arm, before stepping back.

“Who are you?” 

The man tilts his head, and his eyes curl upwards in a grin.

“Why don’t you find out?” he says, leaning forward and offering his chin up, as if urging Minato to pull down the mask. Minato reaches out, at first tentative, and then determined, tugging the fabric down and tucking the long, wild strands of white hair away behind his ears.

It’s a beautiful face—to be the envy of gods and men—and a familiar one. It is the god’s companion in all of brilliant stonework and mosaic panels that surround the room. Minato’s eyes open even wider, and his face splits into a delighted grin.

“Ah! There is so much you must tell me! How did you survive for so long? Where did they get the idea to-“ Minato’s word spread out of his mouth, and he vibrates with energy. The man sighs, even as he smiles, and cuts him off with a kiss. Which Minato finds he totally doesn’t mind in the slightest.

He just wishes it felt a little bit less like the temple was laughing at him.


End file.
